


First Sight

by messageredacted



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Dark Knight (2008)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-14
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-29 13:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messageredacted/pseuds/messageredacted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Joker comes for Harvey Dent, Bruce is just a second too slow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written on 8 February 2010.

Bruce hears the gunshot as he’s shoving Harvey into the hall closet in his penthouse apartment. He allows himself a moment of grim satisfaction. He expected the Joker to show up and now he has, and Bruce is going to put a tic mark in the "Batman" column for that one. Every time a bad guy acts predictably, it makes his job easier.

The party has been going on upstairs for a little while. Many of the guests are well on their way to drunk. They’re defenseless up there, just fodder for the Joker’s cannon, but Bruce would never let them get hurt. If the Joker wants to terrorize the citizens of Gotham and kill Harvey Dent, he’s going to have to go through Batman first.

Moving quickly, Bruce steps into the hall on his way to the secret room where his Batman supplies are kept. He doesn’t have any time to lose. The Joker’s men are already fanning out through the building, and even as he strides down the hall, a man with a gun turns the corner towards him.

“Hands up, pretty boy,” he snarls, gun aiming at Bruce.

Without stopping, Bruce wrests the gun from the man’s grip and knocks him unconscious with the butt of the weapon. The man drops to the ground and Bruce keeps moving, dismantling the gun and tossing the pieces away.

In the sitting room at the end of the hall, there is a couple on the couch. They fumble apart, embarrassed, as he comes in. He’s pretty sure they’re married, but not to each other.

“What’s going on up there?” the man asks, hastily adjusting his clothes. The woman scrambles to her feet. Bruce says nothing, reaching for the hidden switch in the wall that will reveal the secret entrance to his storage room.

“The party’s upstairs, folks,” says a voice from the doorway and Bruce freezes, his hand on the wall. A man with a gun sweeps the three of them with his eyes, looking cold. He's wearing a clown mask. “We’d like all the guests in one place.”

The woman gives a little squeal of surprise, taking a step back. The man’s gun twitches in her direction. Bruce lets his hand drop from the secret compartment.

“It’s okay,” he says calmly. “We’ll all go upstairs. No one needs to get hurt.”

“Listen to him,” the armed man says, waving his gun a little in Bruce’s direction. “Come on, let’s go.”

The couple moves cautiously to the doorway and past the man. Bruce comes on their heels. He nods at the armed man, who huffs impatiently and waves him along. Bruce lifts his arm and drills his elbow into the man’s throat, doubling him over. He grabs the man’s wrist and wrenches the gun out of his hand, then slams the man’s head into the door frame. The man drops to the ground.

“Holy crap,” says the woman. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“Hide in the room down the hall,” Bruce says, pointing. “And keep quiet.”

The couple scurry down the hall to the other room. Bruce ejects the clip on the gun and pockets it, then drops the gun.

“Freeze,” barks a voice down the hall. A second gunman has come around the corner and is holding a gun on him. Bruce slowly raises his hands and mentally gauges the distance between himself and the secret room behind him. He wouldn’t be able to get to it before the gunman caught him. He’ll have to take this one out too, but this time the gunman knows what he’s capable of. Shit.

“I didn’t think this was a costume party,” Bruce says, slurring his voice slightly as if he’d had a little too much to drink. “What’s with all the clowns?”

The man moves forward, his gun trained on Bruce’s chest. “Step into the hallway,” he says.

Bruce steps into the hallway, away from the door. He raises his hands a little higher and lets himself sway slightly.

“Cut the act,” the gunman snaps. “I’m not stupid. Turn around and head for the stairs.”

Cursing inwardly, Bruce obeys, leading the way to the steps and up into the room where all his guests are gathered.

Everyone seems to be ringed around the edges of the room. Bruce can see the Joker approaching Rachel, who is admirably standing her ground.

“Well hello, beautiful. You must be Harvey’s _squeeze_ ,” the Joker says, circling her like a predator. Rachel’s lips are pursed in something that could be annoyance, but Bruce knows her well. He knows fear when he sees it.

“And you _are_ beautiful,” the Joker says in a lower voice. Rachel cringes away from him as he leans forward.

Bruce has never seen the Joker in person before. The grainy surveillance camera footage wasn’t able to convey the energy of the man, the bright colors of his suit, the power behind his voice. He is nothing like anyone Bruce has ever met before. If he didn’t already know the Joker was dangerous, he would know it just by looking at him right now. The Joker is a hurricane of a man, spreading destruction wherever he goes.

“Leave her alone,” Bruce says loudly, squeezing through the crowd. He sees Rachel shoot him a look of dismay when she sees him out of costume. He ignores it.

The Joker’s eyes turn to Bruce. “Oh, you must be Bruce Wayne,” he says in pleasant surprise, although Bruce can see that the expression doesn’t reach his eyes. “I always wanted to _meet_ you. Was that _your_ helicopter I saw landing on the roof earlier?”

“I can take you for a ride if you want,” Bruce says affably. The Joker shoves Rachel away and she stumbles into the ring of watching guests, who catch her. Bruce puts another mental check mark in the Batman column. The Joker released his hostage. That’s another plus.

“I’m looking for Harvey Dent,” the Joker says, his attention completely on Bruce as he paces towards him. “Have you seen him?”

“He’s not here?” Bruce looks around in mild consternation. The Joker claps a hand around the back of Bruce’s head, dragging him close. The two of them are almost exactly the same height and from this close, Bruce can see that the Joker’s eyes are a sharp green.

“No, he’s not,” the Joker purrs. “I wonder if he’ll come running when he sees his friends in danger, or if he’ll just _run_.” His knife comes up to Bruce’s mouth. “We’ll have to find out, won’t we?”

“Let the guests go,” Bruce says.

The Joker jams the knife into Bruce’s mouth, digging the point into his palate. Bruce gags, throwing his head back, but the Joker holds the back of his head firmly. Bruce clamps his hand on the Joker’s forearm, trying to hold him back. He can feel corded muscle under the sleeve of his suit. A few of the guests gasp and Bruce hears Rachel whisper his name.

“I knew a man once who looked just like you,” the Joker hisses against Bruce’s chin, twisting the knife a little. Bruce swallows convulsively and tastes blood. “He thought he could tell other people what to do. _Just like you_. And he was so, so serious.”

Bruce kicks at the Joker’s knee and the Joker bounces away with a hooting laugh, his knife slicing a tiny cut into the corner of Bruce’s mouth. Bruce starts after him, grabbing his arm and swinging a fist for his face. One of the lackeys jumps on his back, yanking him backwards. The Joker comes forward, lashing out with the knife.

“I told him to lighten up, but he wouldn’t get it through his thick skull,” the Joker says, coming in close again. His knife scrapes the underside of Bruce’s chin and then settles beside his mouth again. “Finally I decided to give him a little reminder so that every time he looked in the mirror, he would _get the hint_.”

Bruce’s mind races. He has no weapons on him. He’s just wearing a tuxedo. The Joker leans in so close that Bruce can’t focus on him. Their foreheads brush together, greasepaint sliding against skin, and the only thing that’s keeping their mouths apart is the knife the Joker is holding in his hand.

Everything in the room seems to fade away and go silent. Bruce can feel the knife hooked inside of his cheek, pulling at the small cut that is already there. It stings, but the pain is distant.

The gunshot, when it comes, is so loud that Bruce feels his heart nearly start out of his chest. The lackey who is holding his arms back jerks, his grip going slack. Guests scream and Bruce and the Joker jerk away from each other at the same second, Bruce moving out of the range of the knife, the Joker spinning away and grabbing at Rachel.

“You think you have the whole city intimidated but you’re wrong,” snarls Harvey Dent, standing with a gun in the doorway. His suit is in disarray and he looks as if he has just fought his way out of a closet. Bruce can’t decide if he’s relieved or worried.

The Joker laughs, holding Rachel tight against him as a shield. His other hand holds a pistol. “Harvey _Dent_. You surprise me. I thought you’d be miles away by now.”

Bruce eyes both of them warily. Rachel is squirming in the Joker’s grip, her eyes wide and angry. Bruce is close enough to grab her, but Harvey looks on edge and Bruce is pretty sure that any fast move would be a bad idea.

“Drop the gun,” Harvey growls.

The Joker raises his arm with the pistol and shoots out the plate glass window behind him, which shatters. He yanks Rachel towards the window and she loses her balance, hanging out over the small lip of the roof and the deep drop.

“No fast moves,” the Joker says with a breathless grin, his eyes on Harvey. Bruce edges slightly closer.

“Let her go!” Harvey says.

“Very poor choice of words,” the Joker says, letting go. Bruce lunges forward and grabs at Rachel’s arm as she screams. His fingers close around her forearm and he yanks her back into the room as the gun goes off again. Rachel sprawls on the floor and the Joker stumbles back, blood bursting on his arm. He bumps into Bruce.

The two of them teeter and for a long second Bruce almost thinks that he’s going to catch his balance, but then they’re both tipping out the window, leaving the bright lights of the room behind. The wind whips at him as he slams down onto the slanted roof and starts to slide. The Joker scrabbles for purchase on the slick surface but there is nothing to catch. Bruce flings out an arm.

It is sheer, insane luck that his fingers catch on the very edge of the roof, hooking around some sort of metal lip. His other hand closes on the Joker’s wrist and the two of them swing out into empty space. Bruce hears a shout rip from his throat at the incredible pain in his shoulder but he hangs on blindly. The Joker slams into the side of the building, the window shuddering in its frame.

Far below them, there are flashing lights and sirens as the first of the police cars arrive, but no one will get to them in time. Bruce gasps for breath, the wind cold and raw in his throat. The Joker is laughing hysterically, kicking his feet, his fingernails digging into Bruce’s wrist. Bruce’s grip on the Joker is sweaty and he doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to keep hanging on. If he lets go, he might be able to save himself.

The Joker shouts something up to him but it’s too windy to hear. Bruce grits his teeth as the Joker kicks out again, swinging away from the building.

“I can’t hang on much longer,” Bruce shouts at him. The Joker smashes into the side of the building a second time. He pushes off the building again.

On the third time, the window cracks. The Joker kicks at the window and it shatters. He hooks his feet inside the window frame and pulls on Bruce’s hand.

Bruce’s fingers slip off the edge of the roof and he drops. The Joker yanks on him hard and the two of them sprawl inside the room below, which is dark and empty.

The Joker scrambles to his feet just about as soon as he hits the floor, hauling Bruce up with him. Bruce stumbles a little and the Joker slams him into the wall. They’re both shaking and breathless. The Joker’s eyes are wild and lit up.

The Joker leans in again, just like he did before, except this time there is no knife between them. His lips slide against Bruce’s and his tongue curls around the tiny cut at the corner of Bruce’s mouth. He pulls back before Bruce has made up his mind to push him away or kiss him back.

“Why so serious, Bruce?” he asks, and then he shoves Bruce away. Bruce stumbles back into a chair. The Joker turns and heads for the door and for the moment Bruce can do nothing but gape.

When the Joker disappears out the door, Bruce shakes himself free of the spell and follows. His suit is waiting, and the chase is on.


End file.
